


Online Sketches

by livinglittlelie



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (non miraculous AU), Adrien is Rose and Marinette is Jack, F/M, Fluff, Lost sketchbook AU, adrien dances for fun, another part of instagram fic, featuring a stupidly high amount of formatting from the writer, let's assume everyone's 18 so we don't fight over this, marinette is tumblr famous lol, okay, silly fic, there's a bit of a chat fic, you have it all in a really neat package
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinglittlelie/pseuds/livinglittlelie
Summary: When Marinette lost her sketchbook, she didn't expect having one of the most famous models of Paris breaking the internet to look for her to give it back.





	Online Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as “Marinette’s clumsiness actually got her a date".

Marinette, in all her wild fantasies—or nightmares, it depended on how you looked at it—had never expected that to happen.

It had all started when she went to Trocadero to draw on her sketchbook. After hours and hours of no inspiration, the walls of her room had felt stifling, and she needed to get out. Trocadero had always been her emergency plan for when she wasn’t feeling inspired, and she was ready to use it that day.

So, when she arrived, she sat on the stairs and began looking around, sketching little details and people to get the hang of drawing again. And, when she felt well-rested enough, she started with her commissions again.

Since she had started posting her drawings online, she had started getting a little fanbase. It wasn’t _that_ big—only 500 followers at most—but they were really nice to her. Some of them had even asked for commissions, and she had immediately accepted them, ecstatic that people loved so much her stuff that wanted to pay her to make more content.

What she didn’t remember was that commissions weren’t the same as coming up with ideas on your own in an inspiration strike, and that had made her spend hours in front of a blank page, torn papers around her, and her mind as empty as her sketchbook.

Luckily, a change of scenery had been everything she’d needed to find inspiration again. Her pencil flew in the page, creating raw drafts that little by little started taking shape. She erased the extra lines and left them in a somewhat clean line art, deciding to ink it when she got home.

So, absorbed she was at her work that she didn’t notice the crowd forming around her. Only the loud blast of two big black speakers managed to startle her out of the zone, making her drop her pencil in surprise.

Loud music began blasting off from the loud speakers, and a group of five men began dancing at the bottom of the stairs, the Eiffel tower as their background. People around her were clapping in eagerness, following the performance, and even Marinette felt tempted to join them, as clumsy as she was. However, she reached for her pencil instead, wanting to draw this moment.

“Princess, catch!”

She was startled out of her thoughts when someone shouted at her direction. Raising her eyes in alarm, she only had time to see a black _thing_ flying directly to her face. She raised her hands instinctively, and stopped the soft cloth from hitting her face. She blinked at what she realised was a T-shirt, then looked down to see just who had thrown it to her, only to meet bright green eyes and a devilish smile.

Her eyes involuntarily racked up and down the good-looking stranger. His wild blonde hair was slightly clamped with sweat, but still looked soft enough to run your fingers through it. His face would be positively angelic if it wasn’t for that wicked grin that promised mischief. And his body…

 _Dayum_ , his body!

She had never seen someone so well-proportioned and toned. His skin was lightly tanned and shining in the light, and his muscles moved deliciously at the rhythm of the music. He made her fingers itch, but for drawing or touching him, she wasn’t sure.

And his eyes, those clear orbs that managed to take her breath away, never left her. She clutched at his tee, completely enraptured with his dance and forgetting completely the sketchbook resting on her thighs, which slipped to the floor after she shifted to get a better view.

But, even though she could have been looking at him dance for hours, their performance ended way too soon for her liking. The leader of the group, a man wearing a cap that looked familiar for some reason, stepped forward and announced their names one by one, most of them being pseudonyms.

Chat Noir.

It fitted him, somehow.

Way too soon, they began packing up their belongings, and Chat Noir and another man began going around their public, asking for tips. Soon enough, Chat Noir stood in front of her, his wicked smile in place and eyes glinting mischievously. It was all she could do to stop herself from running away, or throwing herself to his—still shirtless—torso.

“Thank you for keeping my shirt safe, princess.”

She looked from him to the cloth her fingers were clutching, and promptly handed it back to him. “N-no problem!”

He handed her the hat he was holding on and swiftly put on the black shirt. She averted her eyes to the cap, filled with shiny coins. Oh, right, she had to give them a tip, right?

She reached for her side, where her pouch would normally be resting, but her hand met the air. She looked down, frowning, when she realised that in her desperation to get out home she had left her purse behind. She had the urge to smack herself.

Meanwhile, Chat Noir reached for the hat, not noticing her sudden discomfort. “Thanks for hanging on that, my Lady.”

“Oh, um. You’re welcome.” She winced. “I’m afraid I forgot my purse home.”

“Don’t worry, princess, your presence has been payment enough.” He winked at her, and she was torn between blushing or rolling her eyes. She stuck to the second one.

“You’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

If it was possible, his grin widened. “Only in the best of companies. After all-”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a loud whistle. By the bottom of the stairs, the man who had looked so familiar was waving at them, hatless.

“Dude, stop flirting and get your ass down here! We’ve gotta get this to the van!”

Chat Noir grimaced, and Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. Smiling back at her, he pocketed all the coins and put the hat on his head, his hair sticking out wildly in all directions. He bowed at her theatrically, his eyes glinting in a teasing manner.

“I’m sorry to cut this wonderful meeting short, my Lady. I hope you liked our show.”

She nodded. “I did. I’ll be sure to come around Trocadero some more.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

He grabbed one of her hands, and with a wink, he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. Marinette’s mouth opened in a tiny ‘o’, and her eyes met his once more before he turned around and left, heading to where his friends were trying to move the heavy-looking speakers.

Once he got there, he took off the hat and placed it on the other’s boy head, making him laugh out loud. The other boy ruffled even more his hair, making him look like a lion. Chat Noir then picked up one of the buffers, and flashed her a smile before getting out of sight.

Chuckling to herself, Marinette stretched her limbs, noticing that it was a bit dark outside. Standing up, she dusted off her pants and left, her mind full of a devilishly handsome man dancing at the rhythm of the music, not noticing she had left her sketchbook behind.

It wasn’t until some hours later when she realised that, indeed, she had completely forgotten about her sketchbook. She looked frantically for it around her room, remembering afterwards that she had forgotten it at Trocadero. She made her way back as fast as possible, flying around Paris as if she had wings on her back.

When she got to Trocadero, the square was deserted, and the moonlight illuminated the cream stairs. She rushed to the place she had been sitting before, but she couldn’t find it anywhere. Deciding to not give up, she looked for it in all the park, even checking inside the bins, but her sketchbook was nowhere to be found.

She sat on the same spot she did that afternoon, tears of frustration welling her eyes. It wasn’t that she was mad that her work had been lost—which she also was, for the record—but it was the loss of the sketchbook itself what stung. She always cherished every sketchbook she used, to the point of keeping them all. Her shelves were now full of old notebooks gaining dust, but she couldn’t bring herself to stash them in a box, or even worse, throw them away. Her sketchbooks were her children, she couldn’t do that to them.

And the sketchbook she had lost held drawings of the last three months. Commissions, designs, even private drawings, all lost.

Marinette cleared out the tears that had started falling down, sniffing softly. It was no use staying at the park, wallowing in self-pity in the middle of the night. She stood up, patting once again het pants to get rid of the dirt, and made her way back home.

On the way back, she noticed she had some notifications on her social media, but instead of checking them out, she shut off her phone, ignoring them completely. She would take care of those when she wasn’t feeling like such a mess.

So, she got home, dropped her phone and keys on her chaise and went directly to bed without changing. She dropped unceremoniously on her belly, only turning her head slightly to breathe. She closed her eyes, wishing that her awful day would be over already, but as she drifted off, all thoughts of lost sketchbooks were replaced by bright green eyes and a wide smile.

* * *

Sunlight slowly woke Marinette up. She stretched her limbs, and hummed in pleasure as she felt her joints pop. She blinked lazily, her eyes wandering around without focusing much, when memories of last night came to her mind. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. She hadn’t wanted to remember yet.

Her need to do something won her want to just lay on her bed and be miserable, and she got up, dropping herself to the floor. She may had lost her sketchbook, but that only meant she needed to start another one from scratch. Luckily, she could remember the overall of her sketches from the day before, so not everything was lost.

She went to her chaise, and grabbed her phone. Switching it on, she absentmindedly put on her password while she looked around for another sketchbook. Surely she had a new one she could use, right?

The phone’s notification sound startled her. She looked down at it as it pinged again. In the time it took her to bring it closer and unblock it, the phone had chimed five more times, and by the time she looked at her screen her phone had stopped making sound altogether, as the notifications were coming so fast the tiny device couldn’t deal with it.

Her eyes widened when she saw more than a thousand notifications on her screen, quickly going up. She noticed that some of them were from Alya, and she decided to call her. Surely she would know what was going on.

Alya picked up her phone almost instantly, startling her when she began shouting to her ear. “Marinette, where the hell have you been!?”

“Home! What’s going on, Alya? Why is my phone suddenly blowing up with notifications?”

“it’s because of your sketchbook. It’s all over the internet.”

“Wait, what!?”

There was a frustrated groan at the other side of the phone. “Just- go through my messages and follow the links. You’ll get it then. It’s too complicated to explain it.”

Marinette nodded, gulping down. Remembering that she was on the phone and Alya couldn’t see her, she answered, “I’m going now. Do you want me to call you after I go through them?”

“No, let’s skype while you do that. I want to see your face.”

She winced. “Is it _that_ bad?”

Alya stopped. “I wouldn't say _bad._ Unexpected and completely mind-blowing? Maybe. But not bad.”

“You’re not making it any easier, Alya.”

“Just get on that skype call and go through my messages! It’s going to be easier this way.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Talk to you now.”

She hung up and switched on her computer. While he waited for the device to load, she unblocked her phone, wincing at the immense quantity of notifications. She ignored them all, going directly to the last messages Alya had sent her.

 **Rena_Rouge:** _girl_

 _Girl_. _I just saw a sketch posted online. It looks like something of yours_

_Is it another reposter?_

_Shit dude, I just found an instagram post. It’s full of your sketches. WTF?? I’m so going to throttle them._

_Look, check it out._

And then there was a link to an Instagram post. She opened Skype and tapped on the link waiting for the worst. The images that greeted her astounded her.

It was four of her newer sketches, ones she had posted just days ago. The pictures were taken crudely, most probably with a phone camera, but the sketches were clear. They were hers. They were in the sketchbook she had lost the night before.

But what astounded her most was the caption under the pictures.

 **A_Agreste.** A Princess left a sketchbook behind like Cinderella left her shoe. Now I do wonder if this will also take me to my fair lady. #signalboost #HelpMeFindHer

Her computer chimed just then, telling her she had a skype call. She answered without looking, her eyes trained on her tiny screen.

“Where are you at?” Alya asked just as the call connected.

“First link.”

“Oh, boy. You still have a long road to go.”

Marinette raised her eyes from her phone then, and gaped at Alya. “Is there more?”

“Honey, you’re just getting started. Go back to my messages.”

Marinette followed her best friend’s advice and went back, reading the messages aloud so she could see where she was.

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _girl. This is your sketchbook._

_I remember those pics._

_How does this dude have your sketchbook? Do you want me to kill him?? I have my ways._

_You would be amazed how many people you meet when you’re studying journalism._

_Someone would take the job if I asked nicely. I’m sure of it._

_He posted another thing. Check this out._

Another Instagram post charged on her phone. This time it was a close-up of some of her sketches, concentrating on her signature.

 **A_Agreste.** Does someone recognize this signature? I would really like to find the owner of this magical shoe. I’m sure she’s missing it. #signalboost #pleaseHelp #IWillFindYouPrincess

Marinette lowered her phone with a rough exhale. She hadn’t realized before, as worked up as she was about her pictures being posted elsewhere, but that nickname was too familiar. Princess, he’d called her, just like the handsome stranger of last evening. Could it be him?

“What are you thinking?” Alya asked, a tint of impatience in her voice.

“I… I recognized that nickname.”

“You _do?_ Oh girl, I need all the deets.” she waved her hand. “But this can wait. Please, keep reading.”

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _Huh. He sounds legit. Should I tell him it’s you? I can say it’s mine and go in your place, if he turns up to be a creep._

_I did some research on the dude, and he’s not a creep. More of an eye-candy._

_Adrien Agreste. Model. Wait, wasn’t one of the most famous fashion lines of Paris named Agreste?_

_He’s_ that _Adrien Agreste! No wonder his instagram is verified._

“Wait, what!?” she exclaimed, and scrolled up to one of the prior links.

She went directly to his Instagram account, and found dozens of pictures of the boy she met the day before, looking at her in different angles. Some of them looked professional, with every slight detail taken into account to make the picture as beautiful as possible. In those, the boy—Adrien, she guessed—looked cool and collected, showing off a trained smoulder that scrambled her brain for good.

But it was the informal pictures with way too many people in one shot, where Adrien looked dishevelled but handsome all the way, the ones that took her heart. There he was, the dancing boy with his huge grins and innate charisma.

“It’s him…” she muttered, caressing lightly the screen. The screen scrolled up slightly, but she didn’t care.

“I know.”

Her little smile transformed into a full grin. “I-I met him yesterday, at Trocadero! He was dancing and-”

“I know.”

“Yeah- no, what? You know?”

Alya merely rolled her eyes. “Keep reading, _please_! You’re killing me with the suspense.”

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _Marinette, what’s going on?_

_This guy is getting mushy. What kind of magic did you use to make a model, of all people, fall for you?_

_Check his new pic._

Marinette clicked on the link, and the next post loaded. It was a picture of his sketchbook, this time closed. There was the prettiest stiletto she had seen in her life standing beside it, its beads shining with the natural light. Soft pink lace was draped around them artistically, and the filter gave the picture a pink-ish aura.

 **A_Agreste.** Hours go by without an answer and I’m getting antsy, my Lady. @niNOir says I’m being silly, but meeting you was miraculous. #HelpMeFindHer #signalboost #IKnowYou #IWalkedWithYouOnceUponaDream

“Wait—” Marinette stopped herself in her tracks— “this Instagram looks familiar…”

“I know,” Alya said. “Do you remember this guy I had started dating two weeks ago?”

“Yeah… Nino, wasn’t it?” Marinette’s head sprung up. “Wait. Are you saying-?”

“Yep.” Alya nodded.

Marinette facepalmed. “What are the chances?”

“I know. It’s crazy. Well, just keep reading. It’s getting interesting.”

Marinette did as Alya said, and kept scrolling down on their conversation.

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _wait. This is Nino’s instagram._

_Why is his instagram there?_

_Dude. I just asked Nino about it. He says he’s been best friends with Adrien an-actual-freaking-model Agreste since collège. He’s been friends with a famous person and he didn’t tell me?_

“He probably didn’t tell you because he knew how you were going to react, Alya.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Keep reading.”

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _okay. He says they’ve had a street performance this evening at Trocadero, and Adrien Perfection Agreste has been swooning over a girl he’s seen there._

_He called it “mushy wailing”._

_He says Adrien actually found your sketchbook when they were about to leave, but you were nowhere to be found._

_“She just disappeared, Nino! Like a Princess in a fairy tale!” oh god, he really_ is _mushy. He also has a big fat crush on you already, apparently._

“WHAT?”

Chat Noir had a crush on her!? But he barely knew her! Okay, she could admit that they had clicked really quickly when they met, but to fall for her when they had just talked for some minutes? That was just crazy!

She wasn’t going to complain, though. He had a really symmetrical face, and a hedonic beauty that begged to be represented on canvas. She was dying to draw his body as it had looked when he danced, all glistening with the twilight light and slightly flushed, just screaming to be touched and-

Okay. Dangerous train of thought. Really dangerous train of thought.

She shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. She decided to keep on reading; she would dwell on those thoughts later, when there wasn’t an extremely amused Alya watching for her every reaction.

“You’re blushing, Marinette,” Alya hummed, a teasing smirk on her face. “Just what are you thinking about?”

_Busted._

Did you see why she was postponing it?

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _okay. I sent Nino a picture of the two of us together, and Adrien recognized you. Nino also said that you two—Nino and you, I mean—went to collège together. What’s even going on at this point?_

_If we keep on going with these crazy coincidences, maybe I know Adrien too. Just give me a second. I’ll have this coincidence ready for tomorrow._

“So, do you have your coincidence ready yet?”

Alya shrugged. “I’ll just go with meeting each other in our previous lives. Maybe he bumped into me, or I stole his horse. Whatever. Oh well, I think this situation is crazy enough, isn’t it?”

Marinette nodded. It really was.

 **_Rena_Rouge:_ ** _Nino sent me a picture of him now. He’s pouting at his phone. He’s cute._

_Nino says he’s been through lots of fake accounts. He’s been reporting all of them. He has already taken down half of your reposters. Give him another hour and he will take out all of them._

_Mari, I gave Nino your username, and told him you weren’t answering to your phone. You’ll thank me tomorrow. And I will want the deets._

_Bonne nuit, ma petite coccinelle!_

Marinette stared blankly at the phone, then opened her Instagram. She scrolled down all her notifications until she saw one familiar username on her screen. She clicked on the post she was tagged at, and she let it load, her mind blank.

The picture that greeted her was absolutely adorable. Adrien was grinning at the camera with one of his big smiles, and he was clutching her sketchbook with his other hand, showing it at the camera.

 **A_Agreste.** We finally found my Princess! Thank you for everyone that helped me tonight; @NiNOir just confirmed who it was from a reliable source, and we even got visual confirmation (btw, my Lady, you looked super cute with whipped cream on your nose).

@une_petite_coccinelle, I believe I have something that’s yours. Would you care to chat for a bit so I can return this shoe to her rightful owner? #ICan’tWaitToTalkToYou #SoLucky #YouBringMeLuckLadybug

Marinette smashed her head on her table, her cheeks flaming. A high-pitched squeal escaped her lips, and she covered them with her hands to stop embarrassing herself. She wanted to jump in exhilaration, and turn herself into a tiny ball and disappear at the same time. It was weird.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Alya asked through the skype call. Marinette grunted in response. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“He’s too cute, Alya. My heart can’t handle it.”

The brunette chuckled good-naturedly. “Pretty and mad for you. You really got lucky, Mari.”

Marinette only squealed again. She shifted her head to the side and looked again at the picture, managing to stop yet another squeal from escaping her lips. How could he be so charming and so dorky at the same time? It wasn’t fair for her poor heart.

She closed the picture and went to her DM menu. She had lots of conversations open, but she would take a look later. She scrolled down until she spotted the already familiar username, and then stopped, her finger hovering over it. That was it. Chat Noir would stop being a fanciful meeting and become a real person with a real name. She would see him again, and it both terrified and excited her at the same time.

They had clicked, when they met. Marinette was a naturally friendly person, and she always enjoyed meeting new people, but Chat Noir had been different. Her world had tilted, and time had stopped when his eyes landed on her. It had been almost a mystical experience, and it scared her how strongly she had reacted.

“...Mari?” Alya called from her computer, frowning in worry.

Marinette raised her head, and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine! It’s just been a rollercoaster, that’s it.” She looked down to her phone again, her eyes instantly locking on his username. “... I guess I have a sketchbook to retrieve, right?”

“... If you’re sure…” Alya paused, mulling her words. “Just call me if you need me, okay? I know how that overactive mind of yours makes everything seem way more dramatic than it is.”

She nodded. “I’m sure. I’m just gonna…” she trailed off, waving her phone.

“Okay, then! Tell me how it goes later, okay? And I want every. Single. Detail. Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Off you go then, my little padawan. Nino and I will enjoy the show in the side-lines. Have fun!”

Marinette gaped at that. “Wait, did you tell Nino about our conversation just now-”

The question went unanswered, as Alya hung up, a wicked smile on her face. She had totally told Nino about their conversation. She just hoped she hadn’t said any embarrassing things. Or taking screenshots of her face. Or sending video clips. Everything was possible, knowing Alya.

Huffing to herself, she looked again to her phone screen. Biting her lower lip, she opened the DM, wishing that her heart would slow down for once. The conversation loaded, and Marinette read Chat- no, Adrien’s messages.

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _Hey, it’s me, Chat Noir. From Trocadero today. The dancer?_

_Anyway, I don’t know if you saw my last Instagram post, but I found your sketchbook. Nino—apparently your best friend’s boyfriend—gave me your username._

_Our best friends are dating, what are the chances?_

_Anyway, I was hoping we could meet up. To give you the sketchbook back and… stuff? Although I can just give you the sketchbook and leave. It’s totally fine by me. But I was hoping we could get to know each other better???_

_????_

_What am I saying?? I sound like a creep._

_Can we pretend I didn’t say anything of that?_

_Anyway. Nino told me you have your phone off. I guess you’ll see this in the morning._

_Good night, my Lady. Sweet dreams._

_PS: your sketches are amazing. It’s like they have life on their own._

Marinette chuckled to herself at his endearing ranting. He presumed to have so much bravado, when he could get as flustered as she did, and that was an accomplishment on its own. And he had complimented her art! She felt completely smitten.

Smiling to herself, she answered.

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _good morning, chaton. Nino was right; I had my phone off until twenty minutes ago._

_I wish I hadn’t switched it off… this way it wouldn’t have exploded with notifications right now._

_So Alya has told me everything that has been going on in these couple of hours—yeah, I’m not over about the fact that our best friends are dating. And did you know Nino and I went to Collège together?_

_Anyway, thank you very very very much for finding my sketchbook. I am very fond of every single one of them, and I was really upset when I couldn’t find it yesterday._

_Thank you, Chaton <3_

She bit her lip. maybe the heart had been a bit too much, but now it was too late to change it.

She didn’t have to wait much for his answer; her phone dinged just as she left it on the table. She picked it up curiously, going immediately to their conversation.

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _Good morning, ma princesse! Did you sleep well?_

_Sorry about the notifications. It was the only way I could think of to actually find you._

**_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _Don’t worry!_ _I understand why you did it, and I’m really thankful._

_And yes, I slept like a baby. How about you?_

**_A_Agreste:_ ** _I didn’t sleep much. I was busy breaking Instagram… and the internet. I’m pretty sure there are at least three online articles wondering who you are, coccinelle._

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _I’ll stay behind the mask for now, thank you. But you should sleep some more, Adrien._

_Wait. Can I call you Adrien? It’s just- you told me a nickname, but Alya said your name a couple of times and it stuck._

**_A_Agreste:_ ** _you can call me whatever you wish, my Lady._

She rolled her eyes. She could see him wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously at her. He was so over the top, she noted fondly.

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _Adrien’s fine. But could I get my fair lady’s name in return?_

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _it’s Marinette._ _Marinette Dupain-Cheng._

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _such a sweet name for a sweet princess like yourself._

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _fyi, I’m rolling my eyes really hard right now. Are you this flirty with everyone?_

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _are you, perhaps, jealous, my Lady? *wiggles eyebrows*_

_Worry not, you’re the only one that holds my affections. My flirting comes out naturally around you._

_Actually, I feel really comfortable talking to you. It’s refreshing._

Marinette smiled silly at the screen. She stopped herself from squealing, but a tiny sound managed to escape from her lips.

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _glad I can make you feel comfortable then. I guess you’re not so bad to talk to, after all._

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _what do you mean ‘after all’, my Lady?  This is how you treat the honourable saviour of your sketchbook? I feel hurt._

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _aww don’t be like that, chaton. I’m really glad it was you who found my sketchbook._

_Speaking of, could we meet so I can get it back? I know the best boulangerie in Paris, so maybe we can meet there._

**_A_Agreste:_ ** _ohoho! My Lady’s asking me on a date!_

 **_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _it’s not a date!_

 **_A_Agreste:_ ** _well, then, let’s go on a **date.** I wouldn't want to make my princess mad._

_I actually have all this morning free. Maybe we could meet up today. What do you think?_

**_Une_petite_coccinelle:_ ** _I’m free too. Should we meet there, then?_

Marinette sent him the address of her parents’ boulangerie and they finished setting the details of their date. Meeting. It wasn’t a date. They were just meeting so he could give back her sketchbook, and she could thank him with pastries. That was all.

(Okay, so she picked her cutest outfit for their meeting, but could you blame her? The guy was a _model_. He oozed style through his pores.)

She made her way to Boulangerie Patisserie Dupain-Cheng feeling jittery. From the outside, she could already see a mop of blonde hair inside, and she had to stifle her urge to run away. She was going to go inside, meet Chat Noir again, get her sketchbook back and spend a nice morning with tea and pastries. And everything was going to go perfectly fine.

She had this.

Marinette opened the door of the establishment, a cheery chime of the door bells announcing her arrival. Two people turned to look at her, and her mother stepped out from behind the counter.

“Marinette! It’s nice seeing you.” She hugged her tightly. “You need to come visit more often.”

“I already come every Saturday, _Maman_.”

“Yes, but you still need to come more.” Sabine let her go, and casted a glance to Adrien, who was watching them with unabashed curiosity. “Well, never mind me. Your friend was waiting for you, so you should go talk to him.” She leaned towards Marinette and covered her mouth from his sight. “He’s quite charming, is he not?”

Marinette blushed beet red.

“ _Maman_ ,” she hissed.

Sabine threw her hands to the air. “I was just saying. Well, don’t make him wait anymore, sweetie. Go talk to him.”

Marinette opened her mouth, ready to protest, but decided it was better leaving it alone. Protesting would only prompt more teasing from her mother. Shaking her head, she turned around, facing Adrien, and walked towards him. She grabbed his arm and guided him towards the stairs, ready to get out of her parents’ teasing. They would have some sense of privacy in the living room **.**

She didn’t look up at him until they were sitting down. He was looking back at her in amusement. The wild hair she remembered Chat having had been styled in a style she remembered seeing in Adrien’s photoshoots. However, his eyes were as bright as she remembered.

Before she could stop herself, she reached for his chin and shifted his head slightly, regarding his features.

“Did you know that your face is really symmetrical? I wish I could draw it.”

Adrien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then he smirked at her. “That can always been arranged, my Lady.”

Marinette dropped her hand with an embarrassed shriek. Adrien started laughing then, and Marinette glared at him.

“Don’t make fun of me,”

“I was serious, really.” He rested his chin on his palm and smirked at her. “I want you to draw me like one of your French girls, Marinette.”

she groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I prefer the word ‘incredible’, but nice try. Oh! before I forget-” he reached for his bag and rummaged around for a bit, until he got her sketchbook out- “I believe you were looking for this?”

Marinette’s face brightened as she snatched the sketchbook from his hands. She ran her finger over the pages, relieved that there wasn’t a single scratch on it. She looked back again at Adrien, hugging the book to her chest.

“Thank you very much, Adrien. This means the world to me.”

His smile turned more genuine. “No problem. I’m glad I was the one to find it. Now, about the drawing…”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.”

Both of them grinned. They spent the whole morning chatting and eating sweets, and when Marinette’s mother offered them to stay for lunch, they did. Even though it had been less than a day that they knew each other, it didn’t look like it. It was as if they had known each other for years.

Then, in the evening, Adrien posted a picture of the two of them together, facing the camera with huge smiles, and their cheeks pressed against each other. Both of them were grabbing her sketchbook, showing it off to everyone.

 **A_Agreste:** @une_petite_coccinelle got her sketchbook back! She’s as sweet as her mother’s chocolate chip cookies. She’s going to draw me like one of her French ladies soon, so please, tell us which pose you would prefer! #FeelingLikeRose #WillYouBeMyJackMyLady #WithoutTheDyingPart #ILikeYourPrettyFaceTooMuch

Instagram’s server went down in a matter of minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> I started a writing blog! I will be posting updates on my fics, info about them and little drabbles. You guys can also ask for drabbles! You can follow it [here!](https://writinglittlelies.tumblr.com/)   
> I hope to see you guys there!


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